Wal, me an’ Bill was watchin’ on ’em quar’l An’ slowly qui’tin’ down. ’T was one them nights— Yew’ve saw ’em, co’se, ef yew was country raised— A leetle tinge o’ red left in the west, When yew kin still set out without a coat, An’ yit yer sort o’ glad when yew come in An’ find the lamp’s het up the room. Yew felt Thet Fallish dreaminess thet ain’t like May’s, When Nacher’s takin’ off ’er overalls, But ain’t quite done with cleanin’ up the ruck. We got a-talkin’ speckerlatish like, ’N’ I sez, a-lookin’ up t’ them milyun stars, “I bet ye, Bill, they’s farms on Jupiter,” An’ Bill ’e sez, “I’ve offen thought o’ that.” An’ then he started in an’ reeled it off Jessif he’s readin’ po’try outen books: “A Jovial Spring,” he sez (his very words), “Mus’ last fer mos’ three years, an’ Fall the same. Jes’ think o’ havin’ apple blows, or ’simmons, All ’t once that long! But then yer’d hev ter plow An’ harrer tew fer three four years ’t a stretch; Things ’d even up about the same, I reckon ... Eight kinds o’ moonlight thar, Jehosaphat! Wonder’f thet means eight kinds o’ moonshine tew! An’ whadyer’ spose it dooz ter lovers, potes, An’ bayin’ houn’ dawgs——” “O Bil-l-l! Ain’t ye com’n?” ’T was Laury callin’ ’im. She never knowed How much she pestered Bill. “Le’s gwin,” he sez. VIII Laury’s Lullaby All day I’d b’en a-cuttin’ wheat In the drippin’est kind o’ heat, While Bill he’d drug the road right smart An’ hed made what he called a start Out on the forty west the silos (On the road leadin’ down to Milo’s). We both was watchin’ th’ evenin’ star, Sort o’ smokin’ an’ dozin’ thar, When Laury’s voice begun ter croon With the follerin’ drowsy toon: _Sleep O, Willy bright! The whip-poor-will’s pleadin’, But mommy ain’t heedin’, Fer Willy aint needin’ No beatin’ ternight._ _Hushaby, Willy wise! Tree-frogs is a pipin’, An’ dad’s gone a-snipin’, While mommy’s a-wipin’ Yo’ pore little eyes._ _O bye Willy bye! The screech-owl’s a-screechin’, The veery’s beseechin’, An’ mommy feels meachin’ Ter hear Willy cry._ _In the chimly they’s chitt’rin’ An’ twitt’rin’ an’ litt’rin’, Sleep O, sleep O, Willy wee; Fer the swallers is cheepin’ An’ peepin’ an’ sleepin’— That’s whar Willy wee orter be._ _On ’is little bed O, With nary dread O, An’ a milk-weed puffy Fer ’is coverlet fluffy, Hushaby, hushaby, Willy O;_ _An’ ’is piller a gossam— Y blow from the blossom Thet floats from a thistle Whar tralaloos whistle— Hushaby, hushaby, Willy O!_ * * * * *